I love you I love you not
by HP Fan four
Summary: Hermione is in love with both Harry and Ron, Harry is in love with both Hermione and Ginny, Ron loves Hermione, Krum loves Hermione, Ginny loves Harry, and Fleur is making everything a lot trickier.CHAPTER EIGHT!!
1. The French Kiss

Chapter One- The French Kiss  
  
  
  
Oh, here she comes, Hermione thought, narrowing her eyes in intense dislike as the tall slim figure of Fleur Delacour broke the glassy surface of the lake with a splash, marking the end of her attempt at the Second Triwizard Task.  
  
That stuck-up French skrewt, why couldn't she just drown down there?  
  
The third Triwizard Champion shook her soaking blonde hair out of her eyes and scrambled to the banks of the Hogwarts lake in uncharacteristic ungainliness. When she reached her fellow Champions and their rescued hostages, Hermione sidled away from her, as though everything she hated about the Beauxbatons champion was contagious. Shivering under the blanket Madame Pomfrey had supplied her with, Fleur gazed anxiously at the icy lake, apparently praying wordlessly for her sister's welfare. Hermione's continued glares at her went unnoticed.   
  
Hermione felt slightly uncomfortable, hating Fleur so much, when she was so downcast about failing to save her sister in the lake. She'd met Gabrielle Delacour last night at Professor McGonagall's office, before the bewitched underwater sleep was shed over the four hostages, and a sweeter, quieter little girl she had never met anywhere. Why couldn't Fleur be more like her sister? But then, Hermione supposed, it wasn't Fleur's arrogant and flirtatious nature that were responsible for the hatred Hermione felt for her...it was the effect she had on her two best friends...  
  
A splash in the lake interrupted Hermione's thoughts. Her eyes darted to the water, hoping to see Ron and Harry, but all that broke the surface was one of giant squid's tentacles. It was only then that Hermione realised how worried she was about Harry and Ron - when she'd last seen Harry, he was hopelessly searching through library book after library book for a suitable underwater-breathing spell, and the look on his face when Fred and George had called her and Ron down to Professor McGonagall's office, stated only too clearly that his chances of success were very low indeed. Yet he must have found some way, because he was nowhere to be seen, and there was no way he would have forfeited - no Gryffindor would do that, especially not her Harry...  
  
Viktor was now trying to engage her in conversation - she half-heard him say something about how he'd never felt this way about any other girl and how much it would mean to him if she could visit him in Bulgaria over the summer, but she really wasn't listening. She was too busy surveying the steely mass of iron-grey water for any sign of a ripple...something...anything from the two boys she cared most about in the world. She felt a little hurt that Ron was chosen as the person Harry would miss most, as opposed to her, but tried comforting herself by assuming that Dumbledore needed her to be Krum's hostage instead. Deep down, she wasn't convinced.  
  
Ten of the most tense minutes in her life later, three splashes smashed the glassy surface of the lake into a million ripples as Harry, Ron and Gabrielle Delacour's heads bobbed out of the water, taking grateful gulps of the clear winter air and looking like breathing was a gift they'd never take for granted again. In a wave of inexpressible joy and relief, Hermione was surprised at the powerful urge she felt, to run up to her friends and kiss them both. She was just jerking her wet shivering legs into a run, when a flash of silver-blonde raced past her, crying, "Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?", only to be restrained by Madame Maxime's huge arm.   
  
Percy, meanwhile, white and looking considerably younger than usual, went splashing out to meet the shivering trio, by Dumbledore's request.  
  
Harry, drenched to the bone and wrapped in a warm Madame-Pomfrey-supplied blanket, went over to join her a few minutes later. Much as she wanted to fling her arms around him and kiss him, , all that came tumbling out of her mouth, as he moved towards her, was "Harry, well done! You found how, all by yourself."  
  
Why couldn't she just kiss him? What was she afraid of?   
  
Then the last voice she wanted to hear muttered "You haff a water-beetle in your hair, Hermy-own-ninny."  
  
And while she brushed aside the beetle and the comment, Ron joined them, having finally been wrenched from Percy by Madame Pomfrey. Now was her chance, Hermione thought. She loved them both, Harry and Ron, how or why, or who she loved more, she had no idea. All she knew was that they were her whole world, she loved them and that she'll never let them out of her sight again. And now was her chance to show it to them.   
  
"Um, Harry, Ron..." Hermione began, but Fleur came sweeping over to Harry, her sopping robes clinging to her perfect body and said, "You saved 'er. Even though she was not your 'ostage."  
  
"Yeah," Harry sighed, looking like he deeply regretted it.   
  
Fleur swooped down on him and kissed him twice on each cheek, with the strong seductive passion the Veelas at the World Cup possessed.   
  
Hermione was quivering with uncontrollable fury, and her hand closed automatically over her wand under her blanket. But the worst was yet to come -   
  
"And you, too," Fleur purred to Ron, "you 'elped."  
  
"Yeah," said Ron, with a tone so hopeful it broke Hermione's heart, "yeah a bit..."  
  
As Fleur kissed Ron, Hermione's knees began to buckle. She felt her heart break slowly and painfully as it sank slowly and sickeningly into her disappearing stomach. The dazed, dreamy look on the boys' faces pierced her heart like a dagger. How could she possibly compete with a part-Veela? She wasn't half as pretty, half as forceful or seductive...and she didn't want to be. She hoped Ron and Harry would love her for the bushy-haired, big-hearted, gentle, caring Hermione Granger she was, the same way she loved them for who they were. The looks on their faces, however clearly stated what kind of girl they were interested in, and it wasn't what Hermione had to offer.  
  
Hermione almost didn't object when Viktor draped his arm around her shoulder as the marks were given. She hardly noticed. In the back of her mind, she felt terrible for ignoring him like this – he had saved her life, after all, and she obviously meant a lot to him, or she wouldn't have been chosen as his hostage. She was very fond of him, too – he was very sweet, as well as an excellent date for the Ball (if not her first choice) and she often got extremely annoyed when anyone held the old Durmstrang prejudice against him…   
  
Now she was really confused – she was in love with her two best friends, neither of whom loved her, and she rather liked Viktor, who, in return, seemed to love her… yet she didn't love Viktor, she wanted Harry and Ron…  
  
As they joined the rest of the school trouping back to the castle a few minutes later, only one thought rang furiously in Hermione's head -  
  
"I'll get you for this, Blondie! If it's the last thing I do - I'll get you for this!"  
  
  
  
A/N This is a prologue for the story. Not much of a plot just yet, but I hope it's okay anyway. Like I said, this is more of a preface rather than a first chapter. The story really begins next chapter. Please please review! By the way, the chapter title the word "kiss" is the verb here – it's like "the French can kiss" or "do kiss". Clever, eh? Thought of it myself! 


	2. Hermione's Kiss

The late afternoon sun of the last day of term smiled in glistening streaks across the gleaming scarlet body of the Hogwarts Express as it pulled into Platform 9¾, a billowing cloud of steam announcing its arrival. As it did so, a certain red-haired Gryffindor fourth-year became considerably more tense than he had been throughout the daylong journey. He knew that the step he was about to take, between now and twenty minutes' time when he'd be leaving the Muggle side of King's Cross for the summer, was risky, dangerous and absolutely crazy. He also knew that this was the fourth time he'd told himself "_right, this is it_," as the school train was pulling into the station, and yet so far, the task had remained undone. But this time was going to be different. This time there was no way he was going to lose his nerve. This time will, hopefully, be it. 

Ron had it all planned out – he'd spent the endless games of Exploding Snap Fred and George had forced him, Hermione and Harry through over the afternoon, thinking it over – he'd catch Hermione on her own – there was no way Harry could be there – tap her on the shoulder and tell her he had something of great importance to tell her. As an introduction, he decided he'd discuss the closeness of their friendship throughout the years, despite all their rows, and how these disputes have changed nothing between them. Then, he'd list several of Hermione's countless wonderful qualities as a build-up and finally get to the peak (and the point), and declare the undying love he'd felt for her since the whole mountain troll fiasco in their first year. He had nothing planned for one of Hermione's several possible reactions - he decided he'd keep his response spontaneous.

Hermione rose elegantly from her seat and swung her schoolbag over her shoulder in her beautiful Hermione Granger way. Ron quickly got up and followed her through the compartment door, over the unconscious hex-marked Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who were still lying in the corridor, and out into the noisy student-packed platform. 

A deep golden-orange sun was slowly sinking behind the hills in the distance, casting a crimson glow over the station, and bouncing in dazzling flashes off the train windows. 

"Fred, George, wait a minute!" Harry called the twins, as they made to follow Ron and Hermione out of the compartment. 

Glancing through the compartment window, as he helped Hermione heave her trunk off the train and onto the platform, Ron's heart leapt. Harry seemed to be arguing with Fred and George about something, and considering how stubborn all three of them were, they were likely to be a while. 

_It's just me and her now_, Ron thought, feeling delighted and terrified at the same time. _Fate's on my side…now's my moment.…...here goes_, he added, instantly feeling his insides knot themselves painfully.

"Um, Hermione?" he began, rather quicker and more breathlessly than the organized plan had intended.

Hermione, who was half-kneeling, zipping her schoolbag shut, straightened up to look at him, her eyebrows raised in a mildly quizzical expression.

"Yes, Ron, what can I do for you?"

_She doesn't grunt "yeah", like everyone else_, Ron suddenly realised_…how perfect can you get?_

She was most definitely perfect, no question about it. The word "perfect" had been added to every dictionary in the world for her sake only. It was her word. No one and nothing else fulfilled the adjective in its entirety, like she did. If nothing else, she _looked_ perfect – her thick nut-brown hair sweeping in elegant waves around her face and shoulders, falling diagonally across the left rim of her forehead... her deep, understanding, warm eyes the rich colour of creamy milk chocolate… the vague smile that almost permanently lingered on the corners of her soft pink lips, the almost silky smoothness of her skin, free of teenage blemish… her figure (Ron, being a boy after all, couldn't help noticing) was just perfect – not overpowering or violently exaggerated like Fleur's, but rounded, modest and yet still impressive. Her voice was a beautiful tone of soft calmness (apart from when she was screaming herself hoarse at him)…even her clothes (apart from the Hogwarts robes she wore most of the year, in which she succeeded in looking stunning, too) were perfect - her sea-blue T-shirt, her deep purple skirt, the dazzling white of her socks and trainers – none of these were flashy or wild, but just plain, and so…**_her_**…as though she wanted to make it perfectly clear that she was not out to impress anyone…and this was all independent of her warm heart, her emotion, her laugh, her caring for all creatures great and small, her intelligence, her gracefulness and her own indescribable Hermione Granger charm, which Ron noticed in everything she did. 

"Well, er, Hermione, it's…it's like this," Ron began. "There's…something I need to…something I want to te…something you ought to know," he decided lamely. 

So far, the plan gave him a thumb's down for presentation. 

"Well, go on, what is it?" Hermione laughed at the difficulty Ron seemed to be having, stringing two words together. Her laugh was short and quick, but it echoed in Ron's heart, emphasizing her perfection.

"Okay, well, you know…you know we're been friends for years," he said, quickly, deciding he should stick to the only plan he had, however corny it suddenly struck him as, "and well, I know we fight a lot, but…"

Ron's mouth remained open, though all that came out was a small choke. He chanced a quick glance at the compartment window, where Harry was still arguing with the twins, then looked back into Hermione's eyes and decided this wasn't working.

"I'm…I'm no good at this sort of thing," he admitted, shaking his head, "so what the heck, skip the intro and everything…I'll just get to the point."

"And what is your point?" Hermione inquired with a playful smile. 

"My point…" said Ron slowly, his every nerve tingling with a dread of what he was about to say, "…is… that I lo - "

"You two ready?" 

Harry stepped off the train, carrying his luggage and Hedwig's cage. Behind him, Fred and George stuffed something into their trunk as they followed him onto the platform. 

"_Harry!_" said Hermione in mild anger, "Ron was just about to tell me something important!"

Ron's eyes met hers for a second, before he looked away, muttering, "I'll tell you later."

Hermione's pretty face wore an expression of inquisition, almost of longing… longing, Ron hoped, to hear what he had to say.

"Right, let's get this over with," said Harry briskly. "I hate going through the barrier in this direction."

_It's okay_, Ron thought, trying valiantly to encourage himself, _nothing happened. I'll just wait for Harry to get in the Muggles' car, and then I'll tell her. No problem._

The three of them passed through the wrought-iron archway and into Muggle Kings Cross, where the Dursleys and Mrs. Weasley awaited them. 

Ron chanced a glance at Hermione while his mother hugged Harry, wondering what she was going to think of him after he makes his move. 

"See you, Harry," Ron smiled, clapping Harry on the back as the Dursleys began to leave. 

"Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, and did something she'd never done before and…

Ron saw the scene that followed in horrified slow motion. Hermione leaned forward and kissed Harry lightly on the cheek. Absent-mindedly, Ron found himself taking a step or two backwards, away from them. 

"What was that for?" Harry asked Hermione when she pulled back, although (Ron noted bitterly) the grin that grew on his face indicated he had no objection whatsoever. 

"Women's right, Harry," Hermione smiled. "We have the right to vote, we have the rights to get equal jobs and we have the rights to kiss anyone we want."

"But…why did you?" Harry asked, the smile widening a bit. 

"Why do you think?" Hermione replied. "Why does anyone bother kissing anybody?"

"You mean you…?"

"Oh, Harry, wake up!" Hermione snapped playfully. "I love you, okay? (Harry's jaw dropped, as, several yards behind him, did Ron's) " I love your bravery, your caring, your skill, your laughs… I can't help it, that's how I feel about you…"

In the two or three second silence that followed, Harry thought this over_- Hermione had just told me that she loves me. She… is in _**love**_… with me…Okaaaaaaay, store that in the memory bank, we'll deal with that later – what about my feelings? Well, certainly I've never felt closer to any girl, never shared as much with any other girl, there's no girl I'd trust more, no girl I can relate to as much…in fact, if ever I had to think of anyone to fall in love with, I wouldn't think twice before picking Hermione…Therefore, logically speaking, I must be in love with her…_

"Hermione, listen, I've never felt…" Harry began, but Uncle Vernon, fifty metres ahead o them, near the exit, interrupted.

"Hurry up, boy! We're waiting! We haven't got all day!" 

Harry glanced at the Dursleys' impatient frowns and looked back at Hermione.

"Look, I don't have time," Harry said quickly, "I can't tell you everything I want to right now, but…"

His voice trailing off, he leaned forward and swiftly kissed her on her lips. Ignoring everyone around her, Hermione deepened the kiss.

Watching the scene from a distance of about a hundred yards to their left, stood Ron, stiller than a statue, his expression completely blank. His eyes were screwed up against the icy early evening winds that whipped his hair and billowed through his sweatshirt, attacking him alone - Hermione and Harry were sheltering each other. Only his eyes told the full story of what was happening inside. The blasts of cold air rent through his clothes, through his body and right into his empty insides. He had no heart left, no stomach, no nerves, everything seemed to have vanished in a very painful rush of sinking and squirming. Only humiliation, self-hatred, stupidity and a vow never to dream again, pulsed through him. He felt like a dead twig, meaningless, ignored and forgotten. He couldn't bear the unimaginable stupidity he felt. How could he have possibly even dreamed of Hermione sharing his love for her? Why would she want to? What did he have to offer? Weasley number six, that's all he was. And Harry's side-kick. _Ronald Weasley, Constant Bodyguard Services Ltd_. That was him. Nothing. Useless, ugly, pathetic… that's our Ron. 

It wasn't until she placed a hand on his shoulder that Ron noticed Ginny standing beside him. 

"You okay?" she asked quietly, a slight tremble to her voice, which Ron assumed was associated with the winds. 

For moment, Ron didn't answer. Then he sighed and muttered, "Fine. Just fine. I've just lost the person I love most in the world to my best friend." 

There was a moment's pause, then Ginny responded.

"So have I."

Surprised, Ron jerked his eyes off Harry and Hermione and glanced at his sister. She, too, was staring unblinkingly at Harry and Hermione, stiller than a rock, with and empty expression to match his, though obvious pain and humiliation was burning visibly in her eyes, too. Her long hair, billowing over her face in the winds, was the only part of her that was moving. 

From that moment on, Ron saw her in a completely different light. The curtain of her constant being his baby sister whose age was irrelevant, since baby sisters never grow older, was suddenly whipped off. _She'll be going into her fourth year in a couple of months' time_, he suddenly realised _and, blimey, she'll be fourteen in eleven days! That look in her eyes…she's going through everything I_ _am…she…crikey!… she knows what love is! Poor kid – Hermione's her only friend in the world and she's just stolen Harry! Ginny's got no one…well, not any more, she hasn't. I'm going to be her best friend from now on!_

"Come on, Gin," said Ron, putting a comforting arm around her and giving her a one-armed hug. "We don't need them. Let's go home." 

And with one last pained glance at their lip-locked friends, the two youngest Weasleys left the station.

A/N More coming, never fear. Please review. 


	3. Summer Holidays

Ron sat gloomily on his Chudley Cannons bedspread, gazing thoughtfully out of his bedroom window at the early evening sky. In each hand, he clutched a folded piece of thick parchment – letters that his two ex-best friends had sent him earlier that week, and, momentarily glancing down at them, he found himself wondering why he'd fought the initial urge he'd felt after first reading them – the overpowering urge to rip them into such tiny shreds, that a saner person than himself would have been concerned about splitting the atom…

Two weeks had passed since the last day of term, when Hermione had delivered her fateful kiss to Harry right under Ron's long nose. Since that afternoon, Ron had suffered a fortnight of sleepless nights, appetite-free meals, bitter tears that drenched his pillow late into the night, blended emotions in varying levels of confusion, and just complete and total lack of caring for anything around him, along with the same stupidity and self-hatred that Hermione's kiss had blasted into him at the train station. If it hadn't been for Ginny's support, and the support he offered her in return, he had no idea where he would be…

A knock on the bedroom door made Ron's eyes jolt off the folded letters and dart to the large poster of Joey Jenkins the Chudley Cannons Chaser, which covered the interior side of his door. A moment later, the door opened a crack and Ginny's head looked in.

"Can I come in?" she asked tentatively.

Ron's serious face broke into a relieved smile and he replied. "Sure, sis, come on in."

Ginny smiled graciously as she closed the door behind her, walked up to Ron and seated herself on his bed, next to him.

"What are those?" she inquired curiously, indicating the two notes in his hand with a jerk of her eyebrows.

"Letters," said Ron glumly. "From Harry and Hermione. They sent me these on Monday morning...they want to come here for the rest of the summer again like they always do…. I suppose **_they_** haven't noticed any change in our friendship since _you-know-when_…"

"Why should they? You've hardly been in touch with them since," Ginny reasoned. "As far as they're concerned, you probably didn't see a thing, and why in the world would you be at all bothered, if you did."

Ron gave a small nod – a silent and bitter jerk of his head, to shake out the comment he was tempted to make. 

"And……have you replied?" Ginny prompted gently.

Again, Ron could only nod. Hesitant about Ron's vulnerable mood, Ginny paused for a few moments, wondering whether asking for further details was a good idea, but curiosity got the better of her and she blurted, "And what did you say?"

Ron shrugged blankly.

"I told them, _sure no problem_. After all, it's not like our feelings matter to anyone anyway. If they'd cared at all about what you and I might think, they might have waited for us to leave the station before sharing tongues in public…"

"But…..why did you…?"

"I've been thinking," Ron interrupted, gazing blankly at the far bedroom window again, "…they didn't mean to hurt me. Or you. And I suppose turning my back on them now that You-Know-Who's back and everything just because they…well, you know…" Ginny gave a small nod, "…anyway, it's wrong. Harry's going to be first on You-Know-Who's _Wanted_ list and Malfoy could be right about Muggle-borns, too. Hermione and Harry'll both be needing our support… so I've decided that I'm just going to forget about my feelings and I'm going to do my best to be truly happy for them. Anyway, I'll…….I'll find someone else…"

Ginny could tell from the badly-concealed bitterness in his tone that he didn't believe the last bit for moment, but chose not to comment. Instead she managed a brave smile and hugged him. Since the last day of term, hugging had become a perfectly normal and accepted thing between them, often acting as the only barrier between their current emotional condition and complete and total breakdown.

"Ron! Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley's voice called from downstairs. "Come down, Harry and Hermione are here!"

As brother and sister broke apart, they exchanged nervous grins, gulped, muttered "here goes," simultaneously and made their way down the rickety wooden stairs to the living room.

Harry and Hermione stood side by side in the small living room, both looking up at the staircase as Ron and Ginny's footsteps thudded down the creaky oak steps. For a fleeting second, Ron thought he saw them holding hands, but a moment later, both post-fourth years had plunged them deep into their pockets. 

Ron glanced at Hermione and regretted it instantly. Love, it would appear, seemed to be doing her good, for never in the four years he had known her, had she looked as dazzlingly gorgeous as she was at that moment. There was healthy colour in her cheeks, her eyes sparkled in a strange way Ron had never seen before, and the denim skirt and pale-pink-and-white T-shirt she was wearing had never made her figure look more gob-smacking to any normal boy. 

_She's Harry's_, Ron told himself firmly_. So just forget it, okay? She's too good for the likes of you, anyway, even if she wasn't spoken for. _

Was fate trying to torture him, presenting her in front of Ron in such mind-spinning beauty? Or was she just making the effort to look her best in her boyfriend's presence? Or did she just appear more beautiful to Ron because she was marked as a forbidden fruit? Whatever it was, Ron found himself, in an almost Imperius-Curse-like state of subconsciousness, clapping his hand together and asking, "So, have you two got anything to tell us?"

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Ginny flash him a searching look that clearly said, _"Ronnie, oh dear brother whom I love very much….**WHY IN THE NAME OF MERLIN DID YOU SAY THAT?!"**_

Harry and Hermione froze, as though caught in the middle of a guilty act. Their eyes darted to meet each other in an expression of almost nervous confusion. Then, as Harry opened his mouth to reply, Hermione cut him across before he could get the first word out. 

"No. No, nothing at all."

A/N Okay, short chapter by my standards. It was going to be a lot longer, but because of bagruyot (to those of you who don't know, it's the exams we take here in Israel – NEWTS) I've had to cut it down. There will be more, provided there are reviews, though.

Please please please please review!


	4. Change of Heart?

**T**he rather messy array of Kaleidoscope-like shapes of moonlight and shadow that the ceiling of the smallest bedroom of The Burrow hosted, was far from remarkable. However, despite its monotonously-normal form, it had won itself the constant gaze of a pair of serious brown eyes who had not left the ceiling for the past four hours. Every one of the few times these eyes would blink, another tear, smaller than a pea, but heavier than a cannonball, would roll labourously down the side of a freckled nose, trickle over the bump of a freckled cheek and disappear into woven folds of the pillow beneath. 

Ginny sighed and blinked. She wished the tears would stop erupting from her eyes like this – what if Harry was to see her now? Courageous, valiant Harry who'd faced danger in the face so many times, and never cried…what would he think of her if he saw her blubbering like a baby because of a wee heartbreak? He was asleep in Ron's room, after all, only one floor above her…besides, she's a Gryffindor, Gryffindors don't cry…

Ginny held her breath for a moment to calm herself down, and through the silence that followed, the sound of soft sleepy breathing drifted over from the other side of the room. Ginny jerked her eyes off the ceiling for the first time since she'd climbed into bed four hours earlier, and glanced across the room at the bed parallel to hers, where the sleeping form of Hermione lay fast asleep.

_The luckiest girl in the world, Ginny thought bitterly. __Boy, has she got it all – looks, brains, admirers (it was going to be a long time before Ginny forgot the look on every single face in the Great Hall when Hermione walked in with Krum at the start of the Yule Ball)__, a pet of her own, good marks, Harry…___

This last thought rebounded like an Ever-Bashing Boomerang inside Ginny's head for a moment that seemed like an eternity. Harry. The boy she loved…the boy she'd always dreamed of, the boy whose warm caring heart, sweet personality and smile had captured her heart for years…_the boy Hermione loves, the painful pang in her heart reminded her…__the boy who loves Hermione…___

Ginny hurriedly wiped away the two heavy tears that had leaked from both her eyes with a sweep of her bare arm. _I can't take any more of this, she thought…__lying here thinking like this…it's too much… She glanced out through her open window at the cloudy midsummer night sky. __Maybe a mug of hot chocolate would do me some good, she thought, __perhaps with a spot of Butterbeer…in her present condition, anything of the sort sounded like a good idea, and this was a solution to most emotional problems that hadn't failed her since her mother had introduced her to it, at the age of three._

She sat up and kicked off her quilt, wiping her face on the short sleeve of Bill's old T-shirt, which had served as her nightshirt for as long as she could remember. _Second hand, she thought with an internal snort of disgust, __just like the rest of me. But then, almost automatically, she found herself thinking of the shirt's predecessor and the grinning face of her eldest brother seemed to materialize in front of her. Her favourite brother, the brother to whom she was always special, who always had time for her, always loved her to pieces, like she loved him…_

The smallest of smiles crept across her face as she recalled Bill's old tickling games as she absent-mindedly descended the rough-oak stairs. Her subconscious was rather glad to break away momentarily from the misery she'd been engulfed in for two weeks.

A few minutes later, she stood in the shadowy kitchen, stirred the steaming cocoa and Butterbeer around her mug, gazing distractedly out of the kitchen window at the large overgrown garden, mottled with moonlight and shadow. It was a few moments before she realised what she was seeing. 

Clearly silhouetted against the navy-purple sky, a tallish figure stood leaning on the wire fence encircling the small frog-pond in the centre of the Burrow's back garden. Although there was nothing about the solid black of his outline to hint his identity, the sudden warm rush she felt in her heart when she saw him, told her quite clearly that it was Harry. She leaned on the kitchen marble, sipping her cocoa, staring uncertainly at his statue-like contour for a minute or so, semiconsciously debating on whether she ought to go out there and join him. Before she was aware of the forming of any conclusion of any sort in her mind, she found herself pushing the screen door open and silently approaching the frog-pond. She paused, ten feet behind him, and waited.

"Hello Ginny," said Harry softly, without turning around, or indeed moving at all, but merely continuing to gaze blankly over the grimy surface of the circular pool. 

"How – how did you know it was me?" Ginny asked, startled.

The slight pause that followed gave her the impression Harry was pondering his answer. She was just thinking, _take your time, sweetheart, when Harry shook his head in mild bewilderment, and muttered, "I dunno, instinct…I suppose...sort of like the way I know a Bludger's coming at me from behind without hearing it..."_

"Oh, I see," Ginny smiled, walking up to him and standing by his side, "I'm a Bludger now, am I?"

Harry shot her a very quick sideways glance, then looked back at the water. "No, no, I didn't mean..."

"Calm down, Harry," Ginny laughed. "I was only teasing..."

Despite his usual quick-witted self, Harry seemed slightly slow on the uptake this time, and he merely gave a small and relieved, "Oh."

As a cloud shifted overhead, the moon glided into view and the two teenagers' silhouettes became more detailed. Ginny could now see Harry's face - rather blank, yet she noticed there was some strain around his eyebrows and his eyes were thoughtful and bemused. 

_He's Hermione's_ her conscience reminded her. _So don't go getting any ideas…you've no right to him… ___

"So….what are you doing up?" Ginny inquired, leaning her folded arms on the fence too. "It's two forty-five a.m."

"I…. couldn't sleep," Harry said quietly, his eyes on a nearby water lily. "…too much on my mind."

"Boy, is that a feeling I can relate to," Ginny grinned. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry lowered his eyes and his mouth began to fold into a slightly awkward smile that read '_not really, thanks,' so Ginny gave him a small nudge and smiled. _

"You can talk to me, you know," she said playfully. "I'm not just Ron's little ten-year-old sister anymore. I understand **_some_** things. I'm a teenager too, you know."

A small gleam of dawning flickered on in Harry's acid-green eyes, and before he realised it, his eyes were sweeping over her up and down like an X-ray beam, from her bare feet nestled in the grass, to her legs to the teenager torso behind the baggy T-shirt, and finally in some sort of climax – to the mature twinkle in her eyes.

"Yeah, I noticed," Harry heard himself mutter slowly. 

Ginny smiled internally. 

"So, what's on your mind?" she pressed, feeling extremely pleased that for once Harry was seeing her for who she was. "Is it Voldemort?" 

"Yeah, well…partially…I mean…" Harry began, then cut himself across and frowned slightly. "Since when do you call him Voldemort? Isn't it always '_You-Know-Who' in you fami - "_

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Ginny laughed, waving an impatient hand. "Well, just goes to show much talking you and I have been doing over the past three years. Unlike the rest of my family, I haven't called him You-Know-Who since the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry's frown morphed neatly into an expression of curious bewilderment. "Why?"

"I'll tell you some other time," Ginny smiled mysteriously, and thought Harry looked slightly disappointed. "So, what about Vol- sorry, You-Know-Who?"

Harry grinned, then sighed. "He's back, isn't he? And I'm number one on his 'Wanted' list, and I'm just…well, I suppose I'm worried that it'll turn out to be like with all those Muggles superheroes…" Harry faked the harsh, menacing voice of the Green Goblin "…_This is why only fools are heroes, because you never know when some lunatic's going to come up with a sadistic choice…let die the woman you love…or suffer the little children…" _

"You're – you're not worried about yourself?" Ginny asked in mild disbelief.

Harry shook his head, making his fringe sway slightly and the scar slid into view, perched right between his eyebrows. "Not really. I'm more concerned about the people I love most…"

"You mean Hermione," Ginny muttered glumly to herself, though not as quietly as she'd intended, because Harry suddenly looked very serious. 

"I mean you," he said, staring piercingly into her eyes. Ginny's heart didn't get the chance to bounce upwards like a space shuttle, because Harry didn't even pause for a breath before continuing. "…the Weasleys, I mean. And, yes, Hermione too, and Hagrid… I mean, you're the only family I have in the world. Well, apart from…"

"Sirius?" Ginny whispered, and seeing the startled look on his face, she added, "Mum and Ron told us all about Dumbledore's orders in the hospital wing after the Third Task, how he trusts Sirius, and everything that happened two years ago with Scabbers…"

Harry nodded, his head hunched between his shoulders as he gazed back at pond. 

"Listen Harry," Ginny said soothingly, and, feeling a stab of daring, placed her hand on his arm. "I'm not worried about Voldemort in the least. He doesn't scare me. You've faced him, what, four times now? Four times he's tried to kill you, three times he tried rising to power, and you stopped him in his tracks. I've got complete faith in you, Harry, the whole family has. You saved my life in a situation when even unicorn blood wouldn't have saved me. So silly old Voldie doesn't bother me anymore. And as long as you're around, Voldemort's got no chance. You've beaten him three times, you can do again, and you will. I never doubted you for a second. I know that you'll be the one to make him disappear again, and maybe now that he's got a body he _can be killed. The whole Wizarding World believes in you. Well, forget the Slytherins, Fudge and Rita Skeeter, they're not important…"_

She placed her fingertips under his chin and made him look into her eyes. "…nothing's going to happen to any of us. We'll be fine. You'll be great, and when the time comes for you to face Voldemort, we'll be with you all the way."

A ringing silence followed, and Harry continued to gaze into Ginny's eyes, even though her fingertips had left his chin long ago. For a moment, his left eye twitched and he looked like he was about to cry, but then the serious face melted into a warm grateful smile. 

"Thanks, Ginny," he said softly. 

"Anytime, Harry," she smiled back sweetly. "That's what family's for, isn't it?"

At these words, Harry wrapped his arms around her and embraced her like a brother. She hugged him back, her arms around his neck, and though she was overjoyed on the one hand, her heart couldn't help sighing bitterly, as she thought _And that's all I'll ever be to you – family, a wee sister. _

Harry's heart gave a strange judder, and began fluttering powerfully as though a million butterflies had suddenly Apparated into it. For a moment, it confused him, then he accepted it, feeling almost pleased with the feeling. It almost felt right… Ginny thought she sensed the change in Harry's heartbeat through her chest, and felt her heart emulate his. But as they sensed a pair of sharp accusing yellow eyes watching them, they turned to see Crookshanks glaring menacingly at them from the kitchen doorway, and as the word _"Hermione" landed like a bomb in both minds, they broke apart guiltily. _

"Well, I suppose I'd better get to bed," Ginny said softly. "It's Wednesday morning, 3 a.m."

"That's a Muggle song, you know," Harry remembered suddenly. "By Simon and Garfunkel. It's really nice."

"Really?" said Ginny, intrigued. "How does it go?"

Harry shook his head, very embarrassed. "I can't sing it."

"Go ahead, no one's listening," Ginny smiled challengingly. 

"I'm not going to."

"Please?"

"Go away, Crookshanks," Harry said to the cat, then relented and cleared his throat and sang softly, "_I can hear the soft breathing of the girl that I love -" then suddenly realised what he was saying and stopped abruptly. _

"Would that be Hermione?" Ginny heard herself asking, dreading the answer. 

Harry thought momentarily of Hermione's pretty face, and wondered what she'd think if she knew he was serenading Ginny like this. Then he looked into Ginny's sparkling eyes and decided the only truthful answer to her question was, "Good night, Ginny."

Ginny arched a questioning eyebrow at him, then smiled and said, "Good night. Oh, and I loved your impersonation of Norman Osborn as the Green Goblin. It was perfect."

"How do you know about that? the Spiderman film's only in the Muggle world, isn't it?" Harry asked incredulously. 

"Hey, my dad works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department, doesn't he?" Ginny shrugged mysteriously. "I make it my business to keep up to date with new Muggle releases and everything."

"There's a lot I don't know about you, isn't there?" Harry muttered admiringly. 

"Loads," was the cheerful reply. "But if you want, I could let you find out…"

Harry nodded vaguely. "I'd like that."

"Good, so would I," Ginny beamed. "Good night, Harry. Again."

As she turned to walk through the long grass to the kitchen door, Harry followed her with his eyes, a whirlwind of emotions flitting through him. Before she'd reached the door, Harry heard himself call her.

"Oh, and by the way, I like your T-shirt."

Ginny turned around, the moonlight gleaming in her eyes. "Thanks, it used to be Bill's."

"Well, you look good in it…I mean, it looks good on you…I mean…" Harry struggled for words, but Ginny, flushed with pleasure, got the gist. 

"Thanks!" 

The door closed and Harry stood alone by the pond, a solitary black silhouette in the cloudy summer night. As he tried to make sense of the jumbled feelings he was smitten with, Ginny climbed into bed.

Once again, the rather messy array of Kaleidoscope-like shapes of moonlight and shadow that the ceiling of the smallest bedroom of The Burrow hosted won the constant gaze of a pair of brown eyes, but they were no longer tear-laden and serious, they were sleepy and twinkling with content. Before she drifted off to a soft sleep, Ginny glanced down at her nightshirt and thought of Harry's compliment. It _did make her look more grown up, and Harry liked it…_

_Thanks Bill, she thought and almost instantly floated off into a light-hearted, satisfied sleep.___

!! 


	5. Harry's Choice

Harry took a deep breath.

"Hermione," he began slowly, waiting for every ounce of courage in his body to gather into one place before proceeding, "I love you."

The pair of eyes gazing directly into Harry's merely blinked in a bored sort of way.

Harry sighed and tried again.

"I love you, Hermione."

The face opposite Harry's emphasized its complete lack of interest with a rather rude fake yawn. Again, Harry sighed and tried changing tack.

"Hermione, I - "

"Look, just give it a rest, will you?" came the insolent reply. "You'll have to do a lot better than that!"

Harry sunk his head between his shoulders and glared piercingly at the mirror facing him, as his reflection pretended to yawn again. He was standing alone in the Burrow's main bathroom on the middle floor, and had spent the last few minutes muttering seriously to himself about his feelings towards Hermione, although why, he had no idea. It was almost as if he needed convincing that what he was saying was true. During the small pause that followed, Harry heard the Weasleys arousing themselves sleepily in their various bedrooms and starting their day. His watch beeped eight a.m.

"What do you mean, I'll have to do better than that?" Harry demanded of his reflective self. "What's wrong with it?" 

"It ain't the truth, that's what," the mirror grinned.

"'Course it is, what are you talking about?" Harry said, getting more and more peeved by the second. These magical mirrors of the Wizarding World were so annoying with their retorts that Harry often found himself missing the old Muggle ones.

The reflection raised a questioning eyebrow, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying himself. "Oh please," he groaned. "You and Hermione? You're not exactly a dream pair, are you?"

"We have been for the past few weeks," Harry growled, his eyes narrowing, and somewhere in the back of his mind he felt glad he was being so defensive of Hermione. He obviously felt more towards her than he though he di… wait a minute! Of course he feels strongly towards her, she's his girlfr…or was that what his reflection was saying…?

"Gotcha!" the mirror cried triumphantly, plainly reading Harry's thoughts.

"What do you think you are, my subconscious?" Harry snapped. 

The reflection grinned in a way that clearly read "_what else?_"

"Just what are you trying to get at?" Harry demanded.

"Well, why don't you try saying all that tripe you were muttering before, again?" his reflection suggested innocently. "Only this time using a different name – any name, like….say…oh, I don't know…the name of a certain red-haired fourth year, for example?"

"I'm sure Ron'll be very flattered," Harry muttered dryly with a frown.

"Oh ha ha. You know who I mean. Someone who happened to capture your heart last night?"

"Ginny," Harry muttered.

"See, you admit it!"

Harry thought about this. He'd spent all night thinking about Ginny and her advice, and much as the whole new side of her had enchanted him, he knew he was still Hermione's. Hermione loved him and Harry had no desire whatsoever to hurt her by pursuing these emotions Ginny had aroused, much as he might have liked to have done. Besides, realistically speaking, a quick conversation and embrace last night really wasn't enough to rival the last few weeks of his relationship with Hermione anyway.

Ignoring his reflection, Harry hastily splashed some cold water on his face, flicked some stray hair out of his eyes, unlocked the bathroom door, and, as he pulled it open, found himself face-to-face with Hermione. Her blue dressing-gown was hanging loosely off her bare shoulders and over her nightdress, making her look particularly, erm_, attractive_, Harry thought. Hermione looked slightly startled, but recovered immediately and beamed at her boyfriend. 

"Good morning, Harry."

"Hi Hermione," Harry smiled back, feeling only slightly awkward, his mind still on his brief conversation with his "subconscious". "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, fine. You?"

"As of about three o clock in the morning, yeah, great," Harry shrugged. "Better than ever."

Hermione laughed. "You should have woken me up, we could have had a night-time stroll together. That's one thing we haven't done yet."

_Oh I had a night-time stroll all right_, Harry thought guiltily_, only it wasn't with you_.

"Anyway, I'm going in for a shower now," said Hermione. "I'll see you at breakfast."

As she walked past him, she planted a small kiss on his lips which he was almost reluctant to accept. Perhaps noticing his hesitation, Hermione gave him a fleeting searching look, smiled, then closed the door behind her, Harry gazing blankly after her. 

"Nothing like a tongue sandwich to start your day, is there?" said a quiet voice behind him. 

Harry turned and saw Ginny leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom, which was the room directly opposite the bathroom door, her arms folded and her eyes on Harry. She was still in her pyjamas, and Harry couldn't help marveling, once again, at how Bill's old T-shirt complemented her teenage figure. 

"Hermione and I don't use our tongues," he informed her, half annoyed by the taunting in her tone, half very pleased to see her. 

"Why not?"

"Dunno, it just doesn't feel right," Harry shrugged, sending a guilty half-glance at the bathroom door behind him, wondering whether he should be discussing this with Ginny or not.

"Funny, I always heard that tongues were everything," Ginny smiled. "They're supposed to represent the passion and the longing and the…." She broke off and shrugged. "…well, so I've heard, anyway. I wouldn't know. I've never been kissed…"

_Mmmm, well, maybe I'll be able to change that sometime_, Harry thought automatically, and was immediately traumatized by this.

"…and, yes, I know that's a Muggle film, too," Ginny added. "I told you, I like keeping up to date with these things."

"Yeah, you did," Harry muttered, once again marveling at just how much more to her there was than met the naked eye in which he'd seen her for years.

"Did you sleep well?"

"As of Wednesday Morning 3 a.m., I did, yes," Ginny replied with a small hint smuggled into her smile, which Harry took immediately. His mind flew back five hours to their moonlit encounter, and as they held each other's gaze, Harry's heart gave the same fluttering sensation he'd felt when Ginny had held him in her comforting arms. Inevitably, Hermione was pushed to a distant, less relevant corner of his mind.

"And you?" Ginny asked in what was almost a whisper.

"Never slept better," Harry replied honestly, causing Ginny's eyes to sparkle. 

They continued to gaze into each other's eyes for a few silent moments, their eyes saying more than words ever could. Eventually, Ginny broke the silence. "Anyway, I'm going to get dressed," she said quietly. "I'll see you at breakfast."

"Yeah," said Harry dreamily. "Oh, and Ginny…" he began as she turned to her room.

"Yes?" she turned, her soft hair spiraling magnificently around her face as she swung round to face him again.

"Nice T-shirt," he muttered again. 

"Glad you like it," she laughed. "I wear it every night, you can see it whenever you want," and with a small smile still playing on her lips, she disappeared into her room and closed the door. 

Standing between the closed bathroom door behind which stood Hermione, and the closed bedroom door of Ginny's room, Harry felt thoroughly lost. As his confused eyes darted between them, someone to his left cleared their throat. Looking up, he saw Ron leaning on the landing wall, wearing an expression of challenging yet smiley interrogation identical to Harry's reflection's a few minutes ago. 

"What?" said Harry.

* * * *

"Don't send _me_ out, stupid! Are you blind? Can't you _see_ his rook?" Hermione's white knight shouted up at her. 

Hermione sighed. The set of chessmen she'd borrowed from Fred and George to play against Ron, had started pelting her with useless suicidal "advice" since the beginning of the game. Lousy as she was at chess, Hermione could tell that retreating her knight would not only allow Ron's army to plough easily towards her king, it would also mean losing her chance to check his. She couldn't help wondering if this wasn't another idea of the twins' for their joke-shop plans – _Suicidal Chessmen, Guaranteed to win you the game, and a load of laughs_, Hermione thought. Well, the idea may be amusing, but she certainly wasn't enjoying it. She tossed her hair in frustration, failing to notice the way this simple movement hypnotized her opponent. The early lunchtime sun slanted into the kitchen through the large window over the sink and a soft summer breeze stroked the faces of the four teenagers sitting at the scrubbed kitchen table. Harry and Ginny kneeled on the chairs on either side of Ron and Hermione, offering whispered advice at random, though neither of them was any good. 

Ron slid his bishop diagonally across the chessboard with his finger, where it pummeled the knight with one sharp blow that sent it flying in an impressive arc to the pile of defeated chesspieces on the table. 

"_That's_ for calling Hermione stupid," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, although Hermione heard him and raised her glowing eyes to his, making his ears burn. 

Their eyes latched onto each other for a few moments and as rich-chocolate-brown met denim-blue, Hermione was thrown into a flashback – 

_"I love them both," she had decided on February 24th in a wave of inexpressible relief as Harry, Ron and Gabrielle Delacour trudged out of the Hogwarts lake. "Harry and Ron. I don't know how or why or who I love more, all I know is that they're my whole world, I love them and I'll never let them out of my sight again."_

Although this was just a silly little game of chess, Ron's indignation on her behalf touched her in the deep sector of her heart she reserved just for Harry. She'd loved Ron as more than the best friend he was, earlier in the year…maybe her feelings hadn't completely vanished. She could hear Harry's soft breathing on her left. _Who was she kidding? Harry was her man, he always had been. Her ultimate fantasy boyfriend, and now that he was hers_…although at the same time, gazing into Ron's blue eyes, she couldn't help wishing Harry and Ginny would go away…

"I…can't concentrate with you two breathing down my neck," she said quietly and calmly, playing awkwardly with her hair and avoiding Harry and Ginny's eyes. "It's hard enough trying to concentrate with these chesspieces…could you find something else to do?"

Harry and Ginny exchanged a bewildered glance, then Ginny smiled and indicated the garden with a jerk of her head. Harry, feeling strangely thrilled, grinned at her and they both got up from the table. 

"We'll call you when the game's over," Hermione called after them as they disappeared through the screen door. "We won't be long."

As the screen door snapped shut behind them, Hermione smiled internally, looked back into Ron's bemused eyes, then allowed an external smile to slip onto her face, feeling oddly pleased that she and Ron were alone.

"Your move," she said lightly, as her pawn rammed into his rook. 

* * *

Behind the Burrow was a gradually sloping hillock overlooking the apple orchards the Weasleys often used to practice Quidditch. Harry followed Ginny up the hill, the early afternoon sun beaming gently down at them, excitement and happiness coursing through him. He didn't even question these feelings. He'd accepted the fact that he was torn between his emotions for the two girls and this was his time alone with one of them. Ginny led him to the top of the slope, then settled herself on the grass and lay on her back. 

"Come on," she said, patting the grass next to her.

"What are we doing?" Harry asked awkwardly, sitting down next to her.

"Just relaxing," Ginny assured him. "Enjoying the sun, staring at the clouds, making the most of the summer…"

Harry smiled and lay down, taking care to keep a foot or so of grass between himself and Ginny. For a while, they both lay in silence, gazing at the cloud formations in the clear cerulean sky above them, the soft breeze teasing their hair. 

Harry glanced sideways at Ginny and saw a rather thoughtful expression on her face as she watched the clouds drift by lazily. 

"What's on your mind?" he asked quietly, with a small gut feeling he could guess.

Her eyes still on the heavens, Ginny seemed to hesitate before replying, "Boys."

Harry enjoyed an internal smile. "Anyone in particular?"

"Boys in general," came the soft reply, and Harry, noticing she hadn't merely said "no", felt his spirits rise. "I was just thinking…what is it men want in a girl? Most just want good looks, an hourglass figure, a couple of _other_ things I don't have…"

"That's not true," Harry said quickly, and Ginny turned to face him, her eyebrows arched in that Ginny Weasley way.

"What's not true? What I said about men or what I said about me?"

Feeling it was probably best to ignore the question, lest he let his feelings out in the process, Harry changed tack. 

"How many blokes do you know with that attitude?" he asked with a smile.

"Too many," Ginny sighed. "Why?" she added, now turning her body slowly and lying on her side, her eyes on his, "What do you love so much about Hermione?"

Harry's eyes darted to the pigsty-shaped Burrow at the foot of hill, and seeing that he looked extremely uncomfortable, Ginny modified the question. "Okay, let me put it this way – if you weren't Hermione's, what kind of girl would you be looking for?"

_Now that was a question he felt he could contend with_, Harry thought, shifting slightly and lying on his side too, gazing directly into Ginny's eyes. The light that filled her sparkling eyes glowed more warmly in the sunlight and, enchanted, Harry felt the answer emerge easily from his heart, rather than his mouth. 

"Well…" he began slowly, unable to remove his gaze from the incredible brownness of her eyes, "it would have to be someone sweet, caring, sensitive…with a good sense of humour, someone kind and fun-loving…someone special with her own special…magic about her…someone I feel at ease with, yet feel excited and wonderful when I'm with her…there are only two girls in the world like that."

Ginny seemed to be holding her breath. Her beautiful eyes were fixed searchingly and unblinkingly on his acid-green ones. 

"Two?" she whispered, hardly daring to ask in case the answer involved a certain Ravenclaw Seeker. 

"You," said Harry quietly, his heart beating furiously at what he was saying, although he felt relatively calm, as though he'd rehearsed this scene countless times before.

Ginny continued to gaze into his eyes, challenging herself to believe her ears were functioning properly. After a moment's silence, she asked, "And what's the difference between me and Hermione?"

The word "Hermione" seemed to echo emptily and meaninglessly in the uncharted chambers in the back of Harry's mind. Ginny's eyes whispered encouragement to him, and as they caught the sunlight again, Harry knew without question where his heart lay. 

"The difference is…" Harry said softly, so's not to startle her, "I don't love Hermione."

Ginny's eyes widened in wordless delight. Though no smile appeared on her lips, Harry could see one very plainly in her heart. The twinkle in her eyes urging him, Harry leaned forward on the grass, his eyelids sliding dreamily down as his face approached hers. Slowly, allowing Ginny plenty of time to back away should she choose to, he planted his lips on hers. Far from objecting, her mouth gripped his, their lips caressing each other gently for a few heavenly moments. They paused, their eyes opening and their lips parting, as they briefly considered the legitimacy of their kiss…Hermione momentarily sprung unwillingly to mind, as did the almost family-like closeness they'd grown up with, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's reaction, everyone at school's reaction, _Hermione's_ reaction… but their eyes met again and the deep love burning wistfully in their hearts ruled out all these doubts. They were in love, and nothing more mattered. 

Simultaneously, like two powerful magnets, the lips and hearts attracted and this time the kiss was genuine. Their mouths opened slightly as the kiss intensified drastically. Harry felt whole – this was everything that was missing from Hermione's kisses, completely incomparable to anything he'd experienced before. Without hesitation, he jerked his tongue into life and slid it across the border into Ginny's mouth. With obvious enthusiasm, Ginny's tongue retaliated and played in Harry's mouth. The passion, the longing and the unmistakable love danced between them, surging through the two hearts…

As the kiss gradually drew to a climaxed close, Harry slowly opened his eyes and muttered, "I love you, Ginny."

"I know," said Ginny softly. "I love you too, Harry, but…"

"But what?" 

"What about Hermione?" 

"I told you, I don't love her," Harry assured her, taking her hand and gazing lovingly into her eyes. 

"But she loves you," said Ginny seriously. "And she thinks you feel the same about her…"

Harry froze as Ginny's words sunk in. He loved Hermione _very_ much as the best friend she'd always been to him, she was extremely special to him and his world would be unthinkable without her. But he loved her as family, as the closest of sisters, while his heart belonged to Ginny. Telling Hermione that the past few weeks of their relationship had all been fake and unreal would break her heart. Add the fact that he was now in a loving relationship with her best friend, and she'd never look him in the eyes again. She'd hate him more than Malfoy ever would, and bringing her crashing down like that would break his, Harry's heart as much as it would hers.

"We'll work something out," Harry muttered in such obviously dubious optimism, that Ginny could only feel worse…


	6. The Return of Jafar

The Hogwarts library is not the most welcoming of places even by day. The ominous vastness of the place, with the myriads of dusty volumes full of centuries-old wisdom leering down at you from bookshelves twice your height, the tense atmosphere in the air caused by the muffled silence and the piercing glares of Madame Pince the librarian, all make the library one of the less popular parts of the castle for most of the Hogwarts students. That's with lighting and fresh air wafting in from the open windows. By night, the reading hall is a terrifying jungle of monstrous shapes and shadows, raked by the odd moonbeam slicing its way through the gloom from the windows by the wall. Add the threat of serious trouble, should you get caught by the Filch patrol and the library becomes little more welcoming than the Forbidden Forest.

Choosing to ignore all of the above, a newly-appointed fifth-year Prefect leaned on a bookcase at the very back on the library, holding the ancient book she was engrossed in, up to the moonlight streaming in from the window behind her. Hermione shivered slightly as she paused to turn a page. The Restricted Section. The creepiest the Hogwarts castle could get. The rest of the library was Honeydukes compared to this section. The humongous black outlines of the towering bookcases seemed to close in her, the books on their shelves seemingly hissing at her…Hermione shook herself and returned to her book – _The Avada Kedavra Curse – The Complete Encyclopedia._ She had decided that researching the curse to the finest of detail could lead to ways of finally bringing about Voldemort's absolute downfall before he claimed too much power or too many victims. The only place she could study such a deadly curse in all the detail she wanted was the Restricted Section, and as no teacher in their right minds would allow a student to read such a book, one o' clock in the morning on her sixth night back at Hogwarts was her only option…

Hermione shivered again, as the icy tingling sensation creeping down her spine told her all too clearly she was being closely watched. Sensing her stalker was very nearby, Hermione froze, stiller than a statue, in case movement provoked an attack, but raised her eyes from the ancient book and allowed them to sweep freely over the gaps between the bookcases, dart over to as much of the window behind her as she could see, then straight ahead, where she found her hunter.

Hermione jumped and closed her book, swallowing an instinctive scream. A tall solid black silhouette towered over her, standing just outside the moonbeam's reach, so that not the tiniest detail of the face or body was visible in the black-hole-like human shape. In her initial fright, it took Hermione a few moments before she recognized the slouched, hook-nosed profile of the shadow. 

"V-Viktor?!" she cried disbelievingly. 

The black outline of the head nodded slowly. 

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Hermione cried, still too shocked to be able to offer her admirer a warmer welcome. 

"I had to come," came the unmistakable gruff voice quickly. "I haff been thinking off you all summer, Herm-own-ninny. I can not stop thinking off you…I lofe you," he finished quietly.

Hermione gazed into his shadowy face, searching for an expression in the dark, though all she could see was the outline of his head. Her eyes widened with surprise, and she felt deeply touched by this declaration. True, she didn't love Viktor, but knowing that someone in the world felt this way about her, made her feel special and wanted – two things she hadn't felt since Harry had cooled off her halfway through the summer, excusing himself from her company several times a day, and accepting her kisses with obviously stifled reluctance, while offering no expression of affection towards her. He hadn't explained anything to her or suggested they split up, but their relationship had taken a steep downhill course since their arrival at the Burrow. However, she still felt very strongly towards Harry, however disappointed she was with him, and he was still officially her boyfriend… 

"Viktor, I…I'm very flattered," she began awkwardly, lowering her gaze to the book under her arm and fiddling with the pages uncomfortably. "You're very sweet and I really like you a lot, I really do, but…"

"But vot?" Krum demanded sharply.

Hermione looked up, concerned and slightly intimidated by the harshness of his tone. She'd never heard him speak with such an edge to his voice and if his feelings rivaling Harry's was a sensitive subject, she found herself worrying about Viktor turning nasty.

"Well, it's just that…" she muttered, avoiding his eyes again and fumbling with her book, while searching for the right words to soften the blow. "…Harry and I have been, well, seeing each other since the beginning of summer. We're…going out, and he's really my…"

"Potter does not lofe you," Krum grunted dismissively, with a certainty in his voice that made Hermione stare.

"How can you say something like that?" she asked quietly, unsure she wanted to hear the answer.

"Ve talked about it," said Viktor. "Last year, the night ve found Mister Crouch in the Forest. I asked Potter vot he feels for you and he said he could never lofe someone like y - "

"That's not what Harry told me," Hermione said defensively, aware that she had broken one of her basic ten commandments and interrupted someone. "He said you asked what there was between us and he was quite right to tell we were just friends, because that's all we were then -" "He vos lying," Krum snorted. "I asked him if he had ever lofed you and he said "no" very quickly and talked about flying. He doesn't care for you. All he cares about is Qvidditch - " 

"Well, maybe that was last year -"

"…and the Veasley girl," Krum finished pointedly, overriding Hermione's protest.

Hermione froze. 

"Ginny?"

Over the summer, she had developed an unconscious rivalry with the youngest Weasley, a rivalry she hadn't been fully aware of. She had of course not been entirely oblivious to Harry's drastic change in attitude towards Ginny, and at times found herself feeling that Ginny was competing with her for Harry's feelings, like the two girls were on a scale – the more Harry cared for Ginny, the less he cared for Hermione. She had dismissed these feelings on the grounds of improbability, convincing herself that Harry still loved her and had something big on his mind that temporarily pushed his love for her into second place on his priorities list. However, hearing someone other than herself mentioning the scale-theory out loud made her worry that she hadn't imagined the competition at all, and she raised her eyes searchingly to Viktor's invisible ones.

His black outline tugged at the neck of his robes with one hand, reaching the other hand inside and pulling out a rectangular piece of card, which he handed to her. Hermione held the photograph into the moonlight and what she saw made her stomach squirm painfully into a tightly-squeezed sponge, while her heart sank sickeningly into the black hole that replaced her insides. The photo, with the previous day's date imprinted in the bottom-left-hand corner, showed Harry and Ginny in the empty Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, engulfed in a kiss a thousand times deeper, more passionate and more loving than anything Harry had ever offered her. The couple were moving of course, wrapping their arms around each other and shifting the grip on each other's lips. Even in the poor light, the love, the intensity and the passion radiated from the teenagers, all proving all too clearly that this was no spontaneous one-off, but a well-practised procedure between Ginny and Harry. 

Understandably, Hermione felt crushed.

"I took that photo this morning from behind an Invisibility Cloak," Krum said quietly, his sympathetic tone very very much appreciated by Hermione, who looked up into his eyes and gave a small defeated smile. "I didn't vont to upset you, I just vont you know the truth. I don't vont you dating Potter ven he can hurt you. I thought you should know."

"Thanks, Viktor," Hermione said quietly, smiling at him gratefully and raising a delicate hand to touch his cheek affectionately. 

For a few silent moments, she gazed into black face, at the place where his eyes were positioned, although she still couldn't make them out. She found herself wishing he would step into light.

"Come back to Bulgaria vith me," said Krum abruptly. 

Convinced the shock of seeing the photo had disengaged her ears somehow, Hermione gave a bemused frown. "Sorry?"

"I am returning to Bulgaria," Krum repeated. "I vont you to come vith me. There is nothing for you here – only betrayal and false friends. You haff no von here. Look at the photograph if you vont proof. Besides, I haff seen the vay other houses treat you. No von here really cares about you. But I do. I lofe you. You are the only girl who has ever liked me for who I am, not because I am famous. I vont you to live vith me. Ve could be happy, living together. I vill make you happy. Vot do you say?"

Hermione just stared in stunned silence, taking in each word slowly as though they were scanned individually before forming a complete sentence_. It sounds almost like a marriage proposal_, she thought, when she had quite taken in most of what he was saying. 

"No von could ever lofe you like I do," Viktor added, in case she needed persuading.

Hermione's immediate thought was Ron.

Viktor cleared his throat and she turned her attention back to his proposition. She knew she couldn't accept it.

"Viktor, I really really appreciate the offer," she said gently. "It's really very sweet of you and I'm extremely grateful, but…I can't come with you, you know I can't."

"Vhy not?" Krum inquired, again, with a slight edge to his voice. 

"Well, I've…I've got my family here, I can't leave them," said Hermione, choosing the most rational reason. "How do I explain to my parents that I'm leaving the country with someone they know nothing about?" 

"They need never know," replied Krum. "You vill visit them in the summers and during Christmas and Easter and they vill think you are here. They vouldn't know you are in Bulgaria vith me."

"I couldn't lie to them," said Hermione gently. "Besides, there are so many other reasons… I've got school here, and You-Know-Who's return to worry about. How could I sit peacefully in Bulgaria while my friends and family are being constantly terrorized by You-Know-Who? Harry and Ron are still my friends and if anything happened to them…not to mention the rest of the Weasleys or Hagrid…And anyway," she said, softening her tone even more, "I couldn't live with you in the same house, just you and me. I'm fifteen, and you're, what, nineteen? It wouldn't be right. I mean, it wouldn't matter if it weren't for the fact that, well, much as I don't want to say this, I don't love you."

Silence followed, a cold, dangerous silence. Viktor's towering figure was rock-still and though Hermione couldn't see his eyes she could tell he was glaring at her. He didn't seem hurt by her words at all, not did he seem upset or grateful of her honesty. He seemed angry, as though she'd given the wrong answer - dangerously angry, as though her response had clashed with his plan. Hermione suddenly wished her feet would allow her to take a step back. She began to feel intimidated again, even scared…

"I vont you," said Krum coldly, a definite note of menacing in his harsh tone. Hermione closed her eyes and found herself wishing he'd chosen his wording differently. He sounded like he was on the verge of raping her.

"Viktor -" she began helplessly, but next moment was unable to say another word. In one sharp movement, Krum's arms shot forward and seized both her shoulders tightly, pulling her roughly to him, jamming her face into his in a kiss. In a state of total shock, Hermione whimpered as Krum's lips flayed hers furiously. This was no kiss, this was torture – Krum's lip movements were aggressive, violent and lustful – there was not the slightest hint of affection in them. His jawbone was pressed painfully against hers, his grip on her shoulders was so tight, his fingernails were cutting through her robes into her flesh. Whimpering in pain and fright, she tried fighting him off, wriggling to free herself from his agonizing grip, but he slapped her sharply across the face. She knew she was now entirely at his mercy, and waited, trembling, from him to release her. 

When eventually, Krum's face left hers, he was standing half in the moonlight. Hermione wished he'd step back into the shadow because the crazed look on his face, and the merciless, lustful gleam in his eyes told her he was nowhere near finished.

"I haff vonted to do this for ages," Krum hissed.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, trying to blot him and the library out, while steadying her rapid breathing. In a brief flash of optimism, she hoped he was referring to the lip-torture he had just afflicted upon her, but when she opened her eyes and saw his moon-slashed face, even this tiny wisp of hope was gone. 

It took her a moment to realise Krum had released her right shoulder, and as the blood trickled silently down her arm from the deep cuts his fingernails had dug, his left arm traced its way down to her belt. He pressed the brass clip of it with his fingertips and with a click, it fell limp and snaked its way down her legs to the thin dusty carpet, where it lay helplessly around her feet. Hermione looked up from her belt to Krum's face, beginning to quiver with terror as her robes began to sag and slip down her. She clutched them desperately with her hands, trying to cover herself, and whispered, "Please Viktor. It's late I just want to go to bed…"

Krum grabbed a handful of her robes and pulled her roughly to him. 

"I think not," he hissed maliciously, his face dangerously close to hers. 

"Viktor, please don't do this to me," Hermione pleaded weakly. "I really don't want this…"

Krum whipped out his wand and stabbed the tip between her breasts. "You _do_ vont this. I vill make sure off that…I haff a gift for Unforgivable Curses, you know."

"Help," Hermione whispered, wishing she could scream it. "Please, someone…"

"No von can help you," Krum sneered, beginning to tug her robes down, sliding her bare shoulders into view. "Look at photograph if you vont proof. Potter has betrayed you, the Veasleys haff betrayed you. No von cares about you. No von vonts you. You are mine, Granger…you vill come to Bulgaria and serve my purposes, if you know vot I mean."

Hermione glanced at the photo she'd dropped during the enforced kiss. It was lying in the patch of moonlight next to her Hogwarts belt, Harry and Ginny thoroughly enjoying their photographic kiss. Krum's words rebounded horribly in her head…_Potter has betrayed you, the Veasleys haff betrayed you… _

She looked up into Krum's merciless face, clutching her robes tightly, fighting to remain modest, although the Gregorovitch-made wand at her chest told her she was completely helpless. 

Oh where was her Ron? Ron had never let her down before, he'd always been there for her, Ron loved her, where was he now? He'll come, she told herself, Ron'll save me…

As though reading her thoughts, Krum's eyes flashed in the moonlight.

"_Imperio!"_ he hissed.

A/N Chapter seven? Hmmmm, I dunno, let's see those reviews first!


	7. Wingardium Leviosa

Hermione winced and took a step backwards as she felt the Imperius Curse wash over her with a soft swishing sound. Krum was glaring at her testily, watching the curse begin to take effect.

_I've got to fight_, Hermione told herself firmly as the blissful empty-headedness began to cloud her thoughts. _I couldn't fight it back in Moody's class last year, but this time I have to…for my own personal integrity…for Mum and Dad…for Ron. _

The final thought seemed to strengthen her, as Krum's suddenly extremely seductive voice echoed peacefully in her mind, telling her to remove her robe. 

The Curse was now seeping rapidly into her mind, fogging all rational thought, but Ron's image, firmly implanted in there, took control.

"_Take off your robes, Herm-own-ninny…_"

"No way!" Hermione shrieked, ridding herself instantly of the dreamy effect. She was back in full awareness of where she was, the time, the place, and the full meaning of that fathomless merciless gleam of cold fury in the Bulgarian's eye as he glared at her in half-shadow. 

Krum seized her throat in one hand and in one powerful gesture pulled her to him. Struggling for breath and more terrified than she'd ever been in her life, she saw his wand arm rise. Hermione closed her eyes, turning her head away from him and waited for Krum's curse…

"**_WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA_**!"

Hermione kept her eyes shut tight. Through the darkness, she could hear the swooshing sound of a large heavy object rising into the air in an arc, followed by the thudding crack of it colliding with a hard surface, a groan of someone losing consciousness and a tremendous crash as several heavy bodies collapsed on the thin carpet in front of her. In her state of confusion and terror, it took a moment for her to realize Krum's hand had left her throat. A powerful light in front of her shone through her closed eyelids and slowly, gathering all the strength and courage she could muster, she turned her head opened her eyes.

Krum was lying in a heap face-down on the dusty red carpet in front of her, a large reading table laden with heavy books splintered over his head. He seemed unconscious. His wand rolled out of his relaxed hand and disappeared into the shadows. Hardly daring to move, she raised her eyes slowly from the Bulgarian's limp form to her rescuer. 

Standing at the top of the aisle between the two long bookcases walling her from either side, the tip of his wand alight, was the only person it could possibly be…the only one whose cue was so perfect for the script… standing firmly and impressively with his large feet wide apart, his wand arm raised in the exact same position it had been four years ago when he had last rescued her… his denim-blue eyes were narrowed in pure undiluted hatred for his quarry, his red hair gleaming in the bright wandlight…

"Ron," Hermione breathed inaudibly.

Ron glared down his long freckled nose at Krum, and bared his teeth in a sneer of such loathing that even Malfoy had never seen. He was breathing heavily, an avenging fury burning in his eyes, as he stood there, trying to determine the best possible punishment for the hideous crime committed.

"How dare you," he hissed venomously at the unconscious Seeker. "What's Hermione ever done to you, eh? Only been a good loyal friend! She stood up for you, she liked you, and you just….You don't deserve to live, you know that? You sick, perverted Blast-Ended Skrew -"

Hermione let out a small cry – somewhere between a gasp and a moan, and Ron looked up at her. His furious expression melted instantly into one of shocked concern.

Hermione, the girl he'd loved loyally and ceaselessly for four and a half years, the girl who was his whole world, the girl he idolized, worshipped and respected, the girl he loved more than love itself, was standing in a bar of moonlight, trembling from head to toe. Her face was ice-white, standing out clearly against the gloom, her thick hair falling over her eyes and cheeks in a messy array, her eyes were wide and fearful and she appeared to be on the verge of tears. Her robes had sagged drastically in the absence of her belt, and she was clutching them tightly to her with quivering hands, fighting to remain modest. If there was one thing Ron admired above all about Hermione was her modesty. The sight of her standing there, humiliated and abused like that, broke his heart.

"Oh Hermione, what's he done to you?" Ron muttered quietly as he walked over to her and stood by her side. He gazed into white face anxiously, but she seemed unable to look at him. Her terrified eyes stared blankly at Krum's unconscious form, as she trembled uncontrollably. Ron wished he could put his arm around her, but he'd never attempted such a thing before and considering her shoulders were bare, this didn't seme like the best time to try… the last thing Hermione needed was for him to appear to be twisting the situation to his own advantage. 

"Hermione?" he began gently. "Are you okay?"

Hermione, still struggling to catch her breath, just stood there shaking in silence for a few moments. When she eventually spoke, her voice quivered like the rest of her and tears began rolling down her cheeks.

"H-he used me," she choked quietly. "I t-trusted him…I thought w-we were f-friends...I thought he truly c-cared about me. But he lied. Everything he said since last year…about how he'd never felt this way about any other girl…about how I was the only one...it-it was all a lie. All he was interested in was my body. Wh-when he asked me last year to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer…I'll bet that's what he would have done to me there…"

Ron gazed at her with deep compassionate concern in his eyes, his expression sorrowful, as he felt her pain himself.

"He tried raping me, Ron," Hermione said quietly, turning her tearful eyes to his. "He probably would have killed me, too…"

Ron could fight his impulse no longer. Seeing his beloved Hermione in such a state was too much for him. He draped his arm around her trembling shoulders and held her to him in a warm comforting hug, as she sobbed into his shoulder. Hermione wrapped her arms slowly and gently around his neck, continuing to weep quietly in his arms, his natural pessimism assuring him that in her state of shock, she wasn't fully aware of her actions.

"It's okay, Hermione," he assured her soothingly, placing a pacifying hand gently on the back of her head. "You're safe now…I'm…I'm here. He can't do anything to you now."

Ron cautiously removed his arm from her shoulders and drew his wand. With a flick, the limp Hogwarts belt on the carpet climbed back into place and Hermione's sagging robes hitched themselves up to fit her again. 

"Thank you," she whispered tearfully into his chest. 

Ron looked down at her and gave her a small warm squeeze. 

"Come on, Hermione," he said tenderly. "You've been through a lot tonight. Let's get you back to the common room."

She gave a small nod and broke away from the embrace, drying her eyes on her sleeve, while Ron bent down to pick up her library book and the photo of Harry and Ginny. As he crouched down near Krum's head, he hissed, "This isn't over yet, _Vicky_! If you _ever_ come near Hermione again, I'll be giving you a dose of some Unforgivable Curses myself!" He tapped the Avada Kedavra library book threateningly. "Believe me, the lifetime in Azkaban I'll get for it, will be well worth it!"

Then he stood up and joined Hermione. As they made their way towards the exit, she cuddled up to him, and inevitably, Ron's arm found its way back to her shoulders.

_I'm okay now_, Hermione thought, collapsing internally with relief. _I'm with Ron…I'm okay…_


	8. In his arms

Hermione, although considerably calmer, continued to shiver slightly in Ron's arms as he led her up three flights of stairs to the deserted seventh floor corridor. The terror Krum had afflicted upon her over the past hour had left its deep mark, but with Ron, _her_ Ron holding her, and the entrance to Gryffindor Tower in sight at the end of the corridor, she relaxed drastically. 

The portrait of the Fat Lady beamed at the pair as they approached.

"Enjoy your little romantic night-time stroll?" she asked, eyeing the cozy way Hermione's head lay on Ron's chest. "Aw, young love, eh? You two make such a cute couple…"

"Shut up," Ron snapped, feeling the blood rush to his slightly protruding ears. "We're not a couple, we're…best friends, that's all."

And suddenly, Hermione, raising her head slightly off him, found herself looking into empty space and asking herself, "_Is that really all we are?_"

"You're not fooling anyone but yourself, dear," the Fat Lady smiled, arching an eyebrow at Ron. "I hope you're aware of that."

And with an annoyingly superior smile on her chubby face, she swung forward to admit them without asking for a password. With a final grimace at the Fat Lady, Ron led Hermione through the portrait hole and up into the Gryffindor common room.

It was impossible for Hermione not to let her fears melt away as she gazed fondly around the welcoming circular lounge, which – unsurprisingly, considering the time - was completely deserted. The fluffy scarlet carpeting, the squashy crimson armchairs and the red and gold wallpaper glowing in the roaring firelight, all warmed her heart with a feeling of coming home…of security. She glanced up at Ron as he removed his arms from her shoulders, the Fat Lady's comment ringing in her ears. As she saw the common room fire dancing in his clear blue eyes, realization struck her plainly.

"What a night, eh?" Ron sighed, glancing at the common room grandfather clock, which, on cue, chimed two a.m. 

Hermione nodded, unable to remove her gaze from his eyes. 

"Anyway, it's late and you've been through a lot tonight," Ron said seriously. "Let's get you up to bed."

"No!" Hermione cried, overcome with sudden panic at the thought of being alone in her dark shadowy dormitory. "Please Ron, I can't go to bed, not yet. I can't face being by myself in a dark room, not after what happened in the library…please, can we just…stay down here for a bit?"

Ron stared at her with wide eyes, taken aback by her alarm. Then he recovered and said softly, "Of course we can. I'm sorry, I didn't think of that…you would be scared of being alone, wouldn't you?…yeah, of course I'll stay here with you…for as long as you like."

Hermione's expression of panic relaxed into a grateful smile. "Thanks, Ron. I won't forget this."

Ron smiled back and led her towards the couch directly in front of the fireplace. They seated themselves in silence, Hermione privately wishing Ron would hold her in his arms again. For a few moments, they gazed into the dancing flames, allowing their thoughts to run wild. Then Hermione turned to Ron.

"Ron, I just want to thank you for what you did for me this evening," she said softly, her eyes still on the fire, "you literally saved my life, you really did."

Ron smiled and gave a humble shrug. "It's all right. Anyone would do the same for their best friend."

Hermione looked at him, once again pondering whether "best friend" truly described their relationship. 

"No they wouldn't," she said quietly. "Krum could have easily whipped around and killed you, and you know it. You risked your life to save me. Very few people have that in them. You're a true Gryffindor, Ron, and a true hero."

"It was only a little Levitation Charm," Ron muttered, his ears reddening. 

"Yes, why did you use _Wingardium Leviosa_ of all spells?" Hermione inquired, momentarily distracted. 

Ron shrugged again, gazing into the fire, the flames dancing strangely in his cobalt eyes. "It's the spell you taught me, isn't it?" he said quietly, more like he was talking to himself than to her. "I think of you every time I use that spell…It's weird, it's like…I dunno…like, this evening, I was lying on my bed thinking about…well, about things, and suddenly this thought flashed across my mind, "_I wonder where Hermione is right now_". So I leaned over and borrowed the Marauder's Map from Harry's bedside table…I saw you cornered at the end of an aisle in the Restricted Section…Krum moving slowly towards you, like he was sneaking up on you….what would anyone else do? I jumped up and ran…blindly…to the library, praying I wasn't too late…plotting a million and one torture-curses to hit him with if he so much as touched you.…but when I finally got to the library, and I saw you, backed against the window, helpless and terrified…I just, I dunno…let instinct take over. I felt like we were back in the girl's bathrooms in our first year, with a big ugly brainless troll (which we were)…that Levitation Charm burst out spontaneously, back then and again, tonight. It's the effect of seeing you in danger I suppose…" he turned his gaze from the fire to look into her eyes, "…the effect of almost losing you."

Hermione's eyes sparkled warmly. She was very deeply touched.

"You'll never lose me, Ron," she said quietly, meaning it in more than one, very obvious way. 

Ron gaped at her for a moment, his mouth very slightly open, the concentration in his eyes giving Hermione the idea he was almost trying to determine whether she was really there.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered again. 

"Don't mention it," Ron muttered.

"Of course I'll mention it!" Hermione smiled. "I still can't get over what you did for me."

Ron looked back at fire. "Well, I know we fight a lot, and we get on each other's nerves at least once a day, and hey, we get ourselves into war-mode against each other over the tiniest things, but I do care about you…heck, I…care about you a lot."

"Enough to give your life to save mine?" Hermione commented, more to herself than to him.

"You're worth it," Ron said simply.

The furious conflict of emotions inside Hermione reached a breaking point. Every signpost on the twisty, confusing roads to her heart suddenly all swiveled and pointed simultaneously and definitely towards Ron, regardless of Harry, regardless of anything…

"Ron," she said quietly, quivering slightly with the anticipation of finalizing her conclusion by putting it into words.

Ron turned and looked at her, mild curiosity in his eyes. 

"I love you," Hermione said, feeling the beauty and delights of the truth wash over her as she did so. Shivering slightly with her excitement at her revelation, she sat with her hands between her knees, smiling, awaiting his response.

Ron blinked and gave his head a rough shake. He _thought_ he'd heard those words in that order coming from her, he was pretty sure, in fact he could almost swear she'd just said them, but… a reality check was desperately needed here…

"You…what?" he asked, rather calmly, he thought.

Hermione hesitated. Without an indicator telling her she was on the right track, she was unsure whether she had the stamina to repeat her declaration, but seeing the tiniest glint of hope in Ron's eyes gave her all the courage she needed.

"I love you, Ron," she repeated quietly.

_Ok, verification of what was heard is complete_, Ron thought_, but what was actually said here?_ _She'd definitely said it, but then, reality just overrules the logic…I'm not loveable material…how can she possibly love me? But maybe anyway, she actually_…_nonononono no, think of the circumstances_, _Ron_, he told himself firmly. 

"No you don't," Ron replied, shaking his head slightly. 

"Sorry?" Hermione inquired, completely thrown by his reaction. 

"You don't…don't love me," Ron explained. "You might think you do, but look, you've been through a very near-death experience tonight, and I…helped you out of it, so you're obviously very grateful and feeling vulnerable and I probably give you a sense of security now, which is what you want, so it's kind of natural to mistake these feelings for love, but believe me, Hermione, you…what's so funny?"

"Ron, where did you read that tripe?" Hermione asked, shaking with laughter, her soft thick hair falling across her face as she giggled. 

"_Witch Weekly's_ Letters Column," Ron muttered, his ears regaining their flush.

"Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Psychoanalysis," she chortled. "That theory has nothing to do with what I'm feeling. Because I've always loved you, Ron. Ever since you whipped out Charlie's old wand four Halloweens ago and thumped that troll over the head with his club…"

"There you go, you see," Ron blurted, "you're mistaking rescue for - "

"No I'm not," Hermione interrupted with a smile. "Don't you see? You've always been there for me. You were the only one who stood up to Malfoy the first time he called me a Mudblood. You've no idea how touched I was that morning, Ron. I watched you burping all those slugs and thinking 'he did that just for me…'. You've always been there right beside me whenever I needed you. Always. You've never let me down. You were the only one who saw that Bulgarian slimeball for what he was, the only one who tried warning me about him…you were right. There's no one I trust more, no one who makes me feel as special, no one I love more…than you, Ron Weasley. And I know that underneath all the bad temper and arguments we keep throwing at each other, well, like you said, there's deep affection…at least on my part…"

Ron just stared into her eyes, which were slightly screened by the long strands of thick soft hair that had drifted across her face as she'd laughed. Sincerity was glowing in them. She meant what she said. She literally…

"Hermione….if…" he began, trying to phrase what he was feeling in the limited vocabulary the English language provided him with. "…if you knew how…how many times I've heard you say those words in a dream……I'm…I'm just…how do know this isn't just another one?"

Hermione's soft delicate hand reached over and took his large clumsy one in its baby-smooth grip. Ron looked down at their hands as Hermione slowly and softly stroked his with a finger. He looked back into her face and said, "I love you, Hermione."

Hermione raised her eyebrows slightly in surprise. The smile that was slowly growing on her beautiful lips told Ron everything he needed to know. With his free hand, he brushed aside the stray hairs curtaining the left rim of her face.

"I love you so much," he had to add. 

Hermione's face began to move towards his. Her eyelids slipped dreamily down. Here it comes, he thought, the moment I've been waiting for my whole life…love's first ki…

"What about Harry?" he heard himself blurt as Hermione's lips brushed his. 

Hermione backed away only a fraction, enough to enable herself to talk, her rich-milk-chocolate eyes twinkling as they gazed lovingly into his clear denim-blue ones. 

"I don't love him," she whispered. "I never did. I thought I did…who wouldn't want Harry Potter to be their boyfriend? It was my mistake…" she picked up Krum's photo of Harry and Ginny kissing and looked down at it with a smile. "I don't think Harry ever really loved me, come to think of it…I'm glad he finally found the person who fills his heart with joy…I'm glad Ginny did, too…and so did I," she added, raising her eyes back to Ron's. 

Ron advanced his face the few centimetres forward and pressed his lips to Hermione's. For a moment, she seemed too surprised to retaliate, but then she wrapped her lips around Ron's, tightening the kiss, as she wound her arms around his neck. The disbelief and cries of "wake up, it'll all be gone by the morning," that filled Ron's head were swallowed up in the sheer bliss they were engulfed in. The photo of Harry and Ginny, the last reminder of the goings on that night and of Krum's assault, slipped out of Hermione's hand and fell down the side of the couch. 

_She's mine now_, Ron thought impossibly, the pounding of his heart making breathing a very difficult, yet extremely insignificant task, _she's mine and I'm hers…_

The two new lovers, completely oblivious to that photo's living counterparts, who had entered the common room a short while later, sank into a beautiful dreamless sleep, their heart full of the joy only love can bring…


End file.
